


Birthday

by LuminousGloom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:31:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminousGloom/pseuds/LuminousGloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sirius' Birthday! Party in the Common Room.</p><p>Quick short fic for the <a href="http://sirius-black.livejournal.com/tag/sirius%20birthday%20bash%202015">Sirius Birthday Bash 2015 challenge on LJ.</a> Might need some more editing but really just tried to get something out there in time!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday

The cake is spectacular. Made of three towering layers of chocolate sponge, generously slathered in fluffy vanilla butter icing, it's had whole handfuls of silver balls and coloured sugar and hundreds and thousands chucked at it. The birthday candles - planted haphazardly on top, all seventeen present and correct - are ablaze in various colours, with sparklers fizzing and glittering amongst them, shrouding the table in a dramatic haze.

Sirius keeps laughing and joking and shaking his head. A large proportion of Gryffindor house seem to have ditched their homework and crammed into the common room for this, and when they finally stop singing - mainly tunelessly, some of them with exaggeratedly operatic flourishes - he makes a big show of blowing out the candles. There's applause and whistling and lots of teasing comments. Brandishing a large carving knife James proceeds to chop up the massive confection. Pete leads the cries for a “Speech! Speech!” and Sirius tosses his head again, beaming.

“Dunno who you've hexed or hypnotised into making this masterful cake,” he shouts. “But thank you, James and Pete and Remus. Trying to keep me sweet, obviously I'm more use to them now that I’ve no longer got the trace on me.” There is laughter and a few whistles. “Anyway, thank you all for turning out, and for turning this into a bit of a party. There'd better not be a single crumb left!”

He takes a large piece and backs away, people are pushing and shoving to get stuck into the massive cake, and he's actually glad to be able to escape the centre of attention. This has got to be the best birthday yet. It always makes him feel slightly wobbly when his friends go all out for him. 

Someone's turned up the music. A group of second years are lighting more sparklers and waving them around, several fifth years keep setting off small firecrackers - any excuse this time of year. People congratulate Sirius and pat him on the back and so on as he passes. He spots Moony by a side table laden with pumpkin juice and a large bulbous punch bowl.

“Here you go,” Remus hands him a paper cup of cherry punch. He produces a silver flask and adds a little something to the blood red liquid, fortifies his own drink as well. Sirius grins appreciatively, offering his friend what little is left of his piece of cake. Remus declines, so Sirius devours it. How is this cake so good? The two boys touch their cups together. 

“Happy Birthday,” Remus says with a smile. 

Sirius swallows the last of the chocolate crumbs. “Cheers, Moony.” He beams and nods, takes a swig. Somehow this feels a bit odd. Remus has said those exact words to him on this day every year, since his eleventh birthday. In that same tone of voice, with that same smile. And yet, this time they're nothing like the same. 

If before he'd thought of Moony as their funny and clever and quietly mysterious friend, this time last year he was the reason for Sirius’ utter confusion and much secret, desperate pining. Now, though, Remus is his. His boyfriend, his lover, his partner in crime, whatever you want to call it. The person who knows him most intimately. More intimately than James even, a lot more, and in the most delicious of ways.

If only he’d known things could - and would - be this good, Sirius would have been a lot less morose on this time last year. Maybe, hopefully, things will be even better next year, out in what their professors insist on calling 'the real world'. Who knows where they’ll all be come next November, but he’ll make sure he’ll have the Marauders around. Moony at the very least, whatever happens between the two of them he’ll want him there to wish him a Happy Birthday.

Sirius clears his throat. “How _did_ you get that cake?!” he demands to know, sucking his fingertips for last traces of icing.

“Couldn't possibly tell you - tricks of the trade,” Remus shrugs. “Good, isn't it? Though we’ve only done the decorating on it, to be honest. And we wanted to get a band, but didn't manage it in the end.”

“A band?!”

“Yeah! You know, live music to liven up the party. Turns out you can give Cornish pixies tiny instruments, but there's no magic that will make them play.”

“Oh.” Sirius laughs. “Shame.”

Remus chuckles, too. “What have you been up to then? Good birthday so far?”

“Yeah… You know. Nothing special really, but it's been quite fun. Great, all in all. This bit is amazing. You? How was–”

“Fine,” Moony interrupts him, shaking his head. “Just fine. To quote Pomfrey, ‘much better than expected.’”

“Good.” Sirius eyes his friend carefully as he takes another swig. Then he says quietly, “Missed you this morning.”

“I know.” Remus shrugs. “Rotten timing. But there is always later. Or right now…” The lusty grin Moony flashes him goes straight to Sirius’ groin and makes him slightly weak at the knees. 

True to form, this is when the other two Marauders choose to join them.  
“Right now what?” James asks cheerfully, throwing an arm round his best friend. “All right, birthday boy?”

“His present,” Remus smiles innocently, “Perfect time for his present.” He promptly produces a flat package wrapped in red paper which he hands to Sirius. “Here you go, Pads. I hope you like it.”

“I'm sure I will,” Sirius accepts the clearly book-shaped present, examines it, turns it in his hands, gives it a shake. “It _is_ a motorbike, isn't it?”

The others laugh as though they haven’t heard him make that joke a thousand times before. Peter remembers what he’s come over to tell Sirius. “Esme Underwood has got her eye on you. Apparently she's is just waiting for the right song, hoping to get a dance,” he reports excitedly. “As is Violet Rayne.”

Sirius can never quite make out what motivates Pete’s glee at this particular scenario, because this sort of thing has occurred before. Is it that Sirius isn’t a threat anymore? That apparently girls no longer manage to tempt him? That Pete thinks Sirius' and Moony's brilliant romantic relationship is somehow hilarious?

“Why doesn't Esme start with Violet then, if they're both so keen,” Sirius mumbles as he tears open the red paper, revealing a fat, beautifully bound book. “Oh. This is excellent.” He beams at Moony again. “Thank you!”  
_Advanced Defensive Magic_ , the cover reads, with a picture of a wizard zapping an opponent. Sirius flips through the pages, glancing at headings and studying various illustrations. James and Peter nod and comment appreciatively, before they’re all startled by an almighty bang.

Over by the fireplace fountains of red and yellow sparks erupt from a giant Catherine Wheel, which slowly rises up into the air, emitting an ominous howl, before dissolving into a myriad of rockets that swoop around the room, causing everyone to jump and duck and scream. The rockets explode into colourful showers of sparks in rather impressive patterns, and when it’s all over people seem equally startled and amused. “We’ve got loads more,” a Fifth Year shouts eagerly.

“Oh yeah,” James cranes his neck. “They’ve got a large stash in for Bonfire Night. Been meaning to get some off them before they get too carried away and randomly waste 'em all on you.” He grins and gives Sirius a playful shove. “Come on, Pete. Let’s exercise some of our rightful authority as Seventh Years.”

“Right,” Peter rubs his hands and follows James into the exuberant crowd.

“At this rate surely McGonagall is bound to exercise some authority in a minute,” Remus says darkly.

“Probably...” Sirius nods absently. He’s just noticed something else tucked between the pages towards the back of his brand new book. A thin, much smaller volume. _The Delights of Magic in the Bedroom_ , it reads, _101 Erotic Spells and their Uses_. He looks up at Moony, who cocks an eyebrow, grinning mischievously.

“No point in waiting around to be reprimanded though, is there,” Sirius says and gestures towards the door. “How about a visit to the Room of Requirement before supper? Unless you're too tired, after the moon -”

Remus clears his throat. "Funnily enough, I was hoping you'd suggest something like that," he says, keeping an impressively straight face. “I may even have taken a small perking potion in anticipation, so as it happens I'm barely tired at all. It _is_ your birthday, after all.”

As they step through the portrait hole, having made it out of the smoky chaos of the Common Room unnoticed, they are indeed met by a stern Madam McGonagall. She looks them up and down for a moment and nods briskly.

“Mister Lupin, Mister Black, I trust you’ve nothing to do with this commotion in Gryffindor House?”

“Nothing whatsoever,” Sirius says innocently.

“Nothing to do with us.” Remus is even better at appearing virtuous and blameless. “In fact, we’ve got rather urgent business elsewhere.”

“I’m sure you have,” McGonagall nods again. “We’ll see you in the Great Hall this evening, then. Don’t be late.” 

The two boys bow their heads politely and push past her. “And Mister Black,” she calls after them. “Happy Birthday.”


End file.
